


Tarantallegra

by Crossbow



Category: Hannibal (TV), Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Alternate Universe - Wizards, Anal Sex, Aurors, Bottom Will, Cannibalism, Dark Magic, Dubious Consent, Ghosts, Gratuitous Smut, Hannibal is Hannibal, M/M, Magic, Male Slash, Manipulation, Manipulative Hannibal, Mind Games, Murder, Necromancy, No Harry Potter characters, No One Helps Will Graham, Oral Sex, Sexual Manipulation, Someone Help Will Graham, Top Hannibal
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-15
Updated: 2016-03-24
Packaged: 2018-01-08 15:18:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 28
Words: 13,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1134205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crossbow/pseuds/Crossbow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Burnt-out Auror Will Graham has taken a teaching post at the Salem Witches' Institute, but Head Auror Jack Crawford won't let him be. Luckily Will has the support of his good friend, Potions master Hannibal Lecter.<br/>* No Harry Potter characters were harmed in the making of this fan fic. *</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Not in a Day's Work

"Jack Crawford came to see me today," Will announces without looking up from his dinner. 

Hannibal pauses. "Tell me," he says, "that he was just seeing how you're adapting to academic life."

Will twitches an almost-smile. "I should be so lucky. He's got a case."

Hannibal resumes eating. "He's always got a case. He's the Head Auror. It's nothing to do with you anymore."

"It's the Chesapeake Ripper."

Hannibal supresses a smile. Oh, dear Will. "The Chesapeake Ripper hasn't been active in three years. Or if he has, it hasn't been in the papers."

"Jack says it's him. I'd have to see the bodies to be sure."

Hannibal sets down his fork. "Will, that was an extremely high profile case. Are you really prepared for the additional stress?"

"No," Will says candidly.

"Well then. It seems you have made your decision. I'm sure Jack will be disappointed."

"They'd have to split up my classes," Will muses. "Mandaria can't cover them all. Maybe you could take one..."

_"Will."_

"Sorry."

"Let's change the subject. Will you be attending my dinner party next Saturday?"

Will sighs. "I don't know if my conversation is up to your society friends' standards."

"Alana Bloom will be there. I will seat you next to her her."

Will glances up at Hannibal and finally smiles. "All right. And I'll try to keep the Ripper out of the conversation."

Hannibal nearly laughs out loud at that. "That's all I ask."

 


	2. In the Morgue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meet the gang.

"Thanks for coming, Will," says Jack. "I didn't expect you to bring a friend," he adds, eyeing Hannibal. After all, one doesn't usually bring company to a morgue.

Will coughs. "Jack, this is Hannibal Lecter, the Potions master at Salem. Hannibal, this is Jack Crawford, Head of the Auror Department."

"Ah, yes, Professor Lecter! I've followed your work on Ashwinder venom. Very innovative."

"Thank you."

"I thought Hannibal might be able to shed some light on the organ removal," explains Will. The truth is that Hannibal, self-appointed guardian of Will's peace of mind, insisted on coming along to make sure Will didn't overcommit himself. He's also the one who insisted on an evening meeting to force Jack to keep in mind that Will already had a full-time job. Or rather, that's the truth that Will and Hannibal agreed upon. Will is pretty sure Hannibal's true motivation is curiosity, but it never hurts to have back-up where Jack Crawford is involved, so he's okay with that.

In the morgue, Will introduces Hannibal to Katz, Price, and Zeller. Zeller's reaction is inappropriately enthusiastic. "Professor Lecter! You're the one who got Oxitose potion back on the market. Big fan! But can't you do something about the taste?"

Will glances at Beverly, wondering if Zeller's making her uncomfortable. She misinterprets his look as a question and whispers, "Affects the pleasure center of the brain. Used to intensify sex."

"I'm afraid I can't," says Hannibal. "The foul taste is an additive needed to make it legal. Otherwise, it would be too easy to overdose, or," he sharpens his gaze on Zeller, "to use covertly."

Will takes a moment to ponder the irony of Hannibal Lecter intentionally making something taste bad.

Zeller sputters, "I would never - !"

"Oh no," says Hannibal. "I'm sure you wouldn't. I didn't mean to imply that at all."

Entertaining as this is, Will doesn't want to be here all night. "Isn't there a body we should be looking at?"

* * *

Jack makes everyone else stand back as Will approaches the corpse. They watch as Will holds his hands flat, palms down, over the body for several seconds. Finally he announces, "This wasn't done by magic." Jack opens his mouth to question that, but Will is drawing his wand. That's Jack's cue to herd everyone else out of the room.

Necromancy is dangerous enough without distractions.

Through the glass of the door they watch Will, his back turned toward them, making only slight movements with his wand. If he's speaking it's too quiet to hear through the door. Gradually a pale grey mist forms above the body, assuming a more or less spherical shape. Will stares into it, unmoving, for more than a minute. To Jack, it's only a mist. Maybe a bit of a glow or a shadow here or there... or that could be his imagination.

When the mist dissipates Will rocks back as if he's just lost his balance and Jack opens the door. Lecter pushes past him and Jack is surprised to see him put his arm around Will's shoulders. He's more surprised to see Will allow it. As long as he's known Will, the man has gone out of his way to avoid touch; now he's leaning into it. And as shaky as he looks, that's probably a good thing.

But Jack has a job to do. He asks, "What did you see, Will?"

Will shakes his head. "Blitz attack, she didn't see anything. But she was... writing a letter. A complaint. I couldn't see to whom. I assume the letter wasn't found at the scene?"

Beverly answers, "No, but there were several quills in the room. Hopefully we can re-create it from one of those."

"If he took the letter, he probably took the quill," says Price.

Lecter interrupts. "Do you need Will any longer?"

"I'm all right," Will protests.

"I beg to differ," says Lecter.

"You look terrible," Beverly says supportively. "He should really go home, Jack."

"All right, go," says Jack. "We'll contact you securely if there's anything new." The look Professor Lecter gives him says that no one's bothering Will until Hannibal decides he's ready. It's cute how Lecter thinks he has say in that. Jack had a hard enough time telling Will what to do when he was his actual boss; a fellow teacher doesn't stand a chance.

As they're turning to leave, Beverly gives Lecter a stern look and says, "Take care of him."

Lecter replies with a warm smile, "I always do."


	3. Nightcap

Will and Hannibal don't discuss the case until the following evening.

"Do you think it's the Ripper?" Hannibal asks him.

"Can't be sure," says Will. "It's his MO - the blitz attack, the organ removal... I forgot to ask, are the missing organs useful in any potions?"

"They could be," Hannibal says thoughtfully. "There are no known potions using human organs, but it could well be experimentation. It could conceivably be a potioneer trying to determine the best organs to use for a given project."

"Couldn't he just harvest them all from one victim then?"

"Yes, if he's drying them or testing several formulas at once. There's another possibility..." Hannibal trails off. Will waits. Finally, "There are hints of potions with a component of human sacrifice. The records have mostly been destroyed, for obvious reasons. We don't know what the other ingredients might have been or even what the potions were meant for. If someone were trying to recreate one of those, he either has uncovered some lost records or has convinced himself that he has the talent to succeed where generations have failed."

They sit in silence for several minutes after that.

"You probably know more about potion experimentation than anyone alive," says Will. "Do you think this scenario is worth investigating?"

Hannibal tilts his head. "I can't say. The vast majority of potion study is geared toward to healing. It's difficult to imagine someone so dedicated to potions could also murder so many people in cold blood."

Will nods. "It's hard to imagine anyone doing it, but imagining it is my job."

"Not anymore," says Hannibal. "Your job is teaching Defense to pre-teen girls. And you have to do it first thing in the morning."

"Point taken." Will starts to get up.

"Finish your tea first, Will. It will help you sleep."


	4. Between the Notes

"Oh... oh, _Hannibal!_ " Will twists beneath him, head thrashing side to side. "Hannibal - I'm - _ahhhhhh -_ "

He keeps moving steadily as Will curves up sharply against him, holds back while the other man is racked with spasms, spurting again and again across his own chest. He waits until Will has collapsed bonelessly, breathlessly, before he buries his face against his neck and at last brings himself to completion inside that warm, pliant body.

After a while, Will lowers his legs from Hannibal's shoulders and wraps them around his waist. Hannibal nuzzles his ear, making him shudder. Will's sensitivity is utterly aphrodisiac, and he tells him so, whispering against his ear and eliciting further tremors.

Will murmurs, "How are you so good at this?"

"I'm not... it's the two of us together. It's chemistry."

"Just like your potions."

Hannibal kisses him. "Just like my potions," he whispers.


	5. Misdirection

Will's apartment is small, and Jack Crawford's presence makes it seem miniscule. It's better than meeting Jack at the Auror Department, though. With schedules pinned to the wall and a stack of scrolls to grade prominently displayed, he hopes Jack won't keep forgetting Will is no longer subject to him.

"I think it is the Ripper," says Will. "The cause of death was a blow to the back of the head and there's no trace of spells or potions. If the victim hadn't been a witch, there would be nothing to connect it to the Wizarding community at all - the same as all his previous victims. The fact that she didn't even see him coming also fits."

Jack paces. "So we can expect at least two more bodies in the next week, and then nothing. For years."

"Probably."

"What did Professor Lecter say about the missing organs?"

“He says there are no known potions that use human organs, but there’s a possibility of some sort of… mad scientist, I guess, trying to recreate some lost formulas. It sounds far-fetch, but…”

“But this whole thing sounds far-fetched,” Jack agrees. “I’m willing to consider just about anything at this point. That scenario doesn’t explain the gap between killing sprees, though.”

“Unless…” Will stares into the middle-distance for a moment. “Unless there’s not really a gap. Think about it – we only know about the witches and wizards he’s killed. We have no reason to think he’s not killing Muggles in between.”

“He can apparate,” says Jack. “He’s killed all over North America. He could be killing unconnected Muggles all over the world and no one would see the pattern. In fact he could kill wizards in different countries and not be noticed. So he has some reason for killing these people, in this country.”

“It’s a message,” muses Will. “For us.”

“Speaking of messages, we weren’t able to recover the quill used to write the letter. We did find out it was sort of a hobby of hers, writing complaint letters. It might –”

“No, the letter is a red herring,” says Will, still lost in thought. “Misdirection. He’s opportunistic. He saw the letter, and thought taking it would send us on the wrong track.”

“He couldn’t have known we’d find out about it unless he knew about _you_ , Will.”

Will shrugs. “Thanks to Freddie Lounds, that could be anyone who reads the tabloids.”

“I wonder what else he’s misdirected us about,” mutters Jack.

That gets Will’s attention. “You said he can apparate. What if he can’t? With enough money, a Muggle could have travelled that fast. And anyone can use floo powder. There’s no trace of magic at the scenes.”

“A squib?” Suggests Jack. “Or just someone with a vendetta against magical folk?”

“Hannibal mentioned lost records. Have you ever heard of rituals to turn a Muggle into a wizard?”

“I never have, but that doesn’t mean much. I’ll give that to the research team.”

Will nods. “They should also talk to Headmistress Du Maurier about using the school’s library. I’ve seen a few texts there as old as anything the Department has.”

“Hannibal Lecter’s library is the stuff of legend,” hints Jack. “They say some of the books have been in his family since the 1300s.”

“Longer. But he’s not going to let any strangers poke around in it. Even I don’t know where it is, and we’re…”

“Intimates,” Jack supplies, after Will shows no inclination to finish his sentence.

Will averts his eyes. “You could say so, yes.”

~

“Giving someone magical ability?” asks Hannibal. “I’m sure if such a procedure existed, it would be quite popular.”

As intended, that sparks an idea in Will. “Profit?” Hannibal watches him turn the idea over in his mind. “That would mean… the entire point of all the staged murder scenes was…”

“He sent you after a deranged killer, to keep you from seeing the true motive.” He finishes preparing their tea and steers Will towards the drawing room.

“Misdirection on a whole different scale.” Will frowns. “But assuming he’s not completely deranged, he must have some evidence that it can be done. We’re back to your recovered records idea.”

“I believe I may have some material on the theory, and I certainly wouldn’t be surprised if human sacrifice were involved,” says Hannibal. “Give me a day to look into it.”

“Thank you. I appreciate that.”

“Come sit down.” Will obeys, settling next to him on the sofa, and Hannibal pours the tea. “Now… were you able to get all your grading done, or do I have to have words with Jack Crawford about leaving you alone?”

Will chuckles. “I can stand up to Jack.”

“Perhaps you can, but you do not. You’ve already had one breakdown, Will. You left the department for good reason, remember? And Jack barely even let you get resettled before he started trying to reel you back in.”

“It’s just one case. Besides, my part in it is done; I called back the victim. It’s up to Beverly and her cohorts now. And _yes_ , I finished my class work.”

Hannibal raises his hands. “All right, I will leave you to your own devices with Jack if you insist. How is the tea?”

“Mm. Delicious. Is it another of your own blends?”

“This one is just chamomile. Very fresh, though.”

Will grins at him. “I should have guessed that a potions expert would make the best tea.”   

Hannibal touches Will’s hand lightly. “Will you be spending the night, Will?”

He sees Will’s eyes dilate so wide that the “I shouldn’t” that comes out of his mouth is meaningless.

Of course, this means he can’t give Will and Jack the necessary books until the following evening; with Will here, Hannibal can’t claim to have spent the night searching his library. The books are already set aside in his study, because the sooner Will learns that all Hannibal can provide all the answers in his life, the easier this will be.  


	6. Erosion

Will finds Jack outside his apartment when he returns to change clothes before class.

“We've found a second body,” he says without preamble.

“I have class in thirty minutes.”

“I've already contacted the headmistress and explained you're helping us with the Ripper case. She's covering your class herself,” Jack explains as if this were a perfectly reasonable solution.

“You did _what_? I can't believe this. You're intentionally sabotaging -”

“Will, people are dying here. You're the only necromancer we've got.”

“No I'm not, because you don't _have_ me.”

“Okay, look, I overstepped my bounds here. I'm sorry. But since your class is being covered now... ”

Will grumbles some words he would never have dared to say to Jack while in his employ. Finally he relents. “Let me change and call Hannibal. He'll want to be there.”

Jack rolls his eyes. “What is it with you and him? You've hardly known him two months and suddenly he's your shaddow.”

“He's got my back,” Will says, and adds with a pointed look, “In a way no one else ever has.”

~

The Lecter family library has no entrance. The only way in is by apparation. It is far larger and older than even the rumors describe it. When Hannibal the Grim built Lecter Castle in the 1300s, the collection was already the oldest known. Many scrolls are held together only by magic. Once the library was sealed off, only one person in each generation was brought there so they would be able to apparate in.

Hannibal is the last of his line and has no heir. Due to some of his hobbies, he's never considered a family to be to his advantage. For the same reason he has never taken an apprentice. It's a source of concern for his progenitors.

He stands in the lowest level of the library, facing a small stone pool. As he speaks an incantation, the mist in the pool begins to glow, rises, assumes the shape of a man.

“Grandfather,” says Hannibal, “I have found a necromancer. I think he will suit our needs.”

“Is he young enough?” Meaning, Is he malleable enough? Will he outlive you?

“He's thirty-eight, but he is exceedingly open-minded.”

“Thirty-eight is quite old to become an apprentice. And much to old for him to see you as a father figure,” his grandfather points out, quite correctly.

“He is already very skilled,” Hannibal explains. “Possibly the most skilled necromancer alive, aside from myself. He only needs some urging in the right direction. And no, he does not see me as a father figure. In fact he has no idea of my age and believes me to be only a few years older than he is.”

“And he trusts you?”

“More than trusts. He relies upon me. This reliance is growing by the day.”

The figure of his grandfather has no face but nevertheless seems to frown. “Be careful, Hannibal. If you break him completely he will be useless. The keeper of our arts cannot be weak.”

“I must destroy him to remake him.”

“You are overconfident, Hannibal. That will be your undoing.”

Hannibal has heard this before. He inclines his head in acknowledgement. “I will be careful, Grandfather.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd love to get some comments up in here!


	7. Vingette 1

"Professor Lecter!"

Hannibal looks up from to see Abigail Hobbs rushing breathlessly into his office. "Good morning, Miss Hobbs." 

"Professor, I was up all night but I just couldn't finish the assignment. I've only got eight inches of scroll. I don't know what to do!" 

"Would you like an extension, Miss Hobbs?"

They have this conversation on a regular basis. In fact Abigail has this conversation on a regular basis with nearly all the professors in this wing. He's considered expelling her more than once, but the other professors pity her predicament. 

"Yes, sir! Thank you so much! I won't ask again, I _swear_." 

"It's not a problem Abigail. Now why don't you run along to your next class and let me finish here." 

"Okay, see you in class later. Thanks again!" And she vanishes through closed door in a whiff of musty earth and blood. 

~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, this is going to be more than 10 chapters. Sorry. The good news is that I do actually know where this is going. It's not one of those never-ending-stories. It's just there are so many cool little bits I want to work in before it's over.


	8. Intermission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Link to a happy ending

Oh dear. I warn you and warn you that I don't write happy endings, but you're still hoping for one, aren't you? I tried, really I did -  But I realized what I was writing was just what Thomas Harris had already written, which I had already plagiarized once! You can read it here: [Elegy for a Teacup](../../872525)

That is the happy ending this story would have if it had a happy ending. Otherwise, all I can promise you is that Hannibal and Will both live through this. And no one you like will get et up. 

And now, back to your regularly scheduled sadistic psychological manipulation. 

Thanks for reading!


	9. That's Not Kosher

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another crime scene, another delicious meal.

Jack manages to herd Will and Lecter to the scene before Beverly’s team has to remove the body. At first glance, this seems entirely different from the other Ripper cases. Instead of an internal organ, the muscle of the right buttock has been removed. If the victim weren’t a wizard, and if Jack hadn’t already been aware the Ripper was active again, no one would have made the connection.

The man is naked and face-down on his dining room table. The presentation rings a bell in the back of Jack’s mind, but de decides to wait for Will’s assessment before chasing down that thought.

Without asking anyone’s permission, Hannibal remains in the room during Will’s communion with the deceased and has a chair waiting when he’s finished. Jack waits in the next room, entering only when Will has collapsed into the chair.  

“Nothing,” Will tells him shakily. He looks even worse than he did last time. “Not a whiff of magic other than the victim’s own.”

“And I suppose he saw nothing, too?”

“No. He was completely blindsided. He was just thinking about what to wear today, and then – nothing. Who found the body?”

“A co-worker stopped by when he didn’t show up at the office. The coworker has an alibi with witnesses for the time of the murder.”

Will says, “Jack, I’m really not helping here. All I’ve been able to tell you is that the victims saw nothing.”

“That’s still valuable,” Jack argues. “It confirms the MO. In fact since no organs were taken from this one…”

Lecter interrupts. “Valuable enough to Justify Will re-living their deaths?” he asks mildly.

Jack is still forming an answer when his second-in-command, Alana Bloom apparates into the room. “Jack, there’s been another one. This one’s exsanguinated. Will, what are you doing here? And… Hannibal? How did _you_ get roped into this?”

“I asked for Will’s help,” Jack begins, but Alana isn’t having it.

“Jack, Will left us for a reason. You can’t just disregard what this does to him! He looks like a ghost!”

“Thank you,” says Lecter.

Will grumbles something about not needing parents.

“I still don’t know what you’re doing here,” Alana says to Lecter.

“Failing to keep my friend Will out of the Auror business,” replies Lecter.

“I make my own decisions,” Will protests.

Alana and Lecter exchange a look that clearly says, “Maybe he shouldn’t.”

“We can debate this later,” says Jack. “Right now we’ve got another murder scene to get to. Alana, where is it?”

“We?” asks Alana. “I hope you mean you and me. Will and Hannibal shouldn’t even be here.”

On general principle, Jack tries to keep conflicts with Alana behind closed doors. They’re more effective when they present a united front – but this is too much. “I’m the one who decides who should and shouldn’t be here,” he growls.

Will shakes his head. “Even when I was in top form, I couldn’t do it again this soon.”

“All right,” says Jack. “You two go home. Alana, we’ll have to have a conversation about authority later. Let’s go.”

~

That night, over dinner, Will finds himself staring at his blood-red wine.

“Do you not like it?” Hannibal asks. “I can open something else…”

“Exsanguinated,” mutters Will.

Hannibal sighs. “Are we really going to do this?”

“I can’t help it. It’s too weird. Nothing but organs all this time, and now muscle and blood.”  

“You don’t know if it’s the same killer,” Hannibal points out.

“But I do know,” counters Will. “I’m not sure why, but I do know. It’s the Chesapeake Ripper.”

“He’s thrown you a red herring before.”

“I like herring."

“All right. What are the organs he’s taken in the past?”

Will counts them off. “Heart, liver, thymus, tongue, kidneys, brain, stomach.”

“Hmm.”

“What?”

“I'm sure you realize that most organs are edible, but those are quite the most popular. From beef and pigs, of course.”

“Stomach?”

 “Not in North America, generally, but yes. Tripe is popular in many areas.”

“What about the buttock? That's a pretty tough cut, from an animal. If our man is a gourmet, that doesn't fit.”

Hannibal considers. “The _gluteus maximu_ s is one of the largest and yet least-used muscles in the human body. I imagine it would be very soft, like veal or tenderloin.”

Will grimaces. “You had to say that while we’re eating tenderloin.”

Hannibal lifts his eybrows slightly. “You brought it up.”

“And the blood… black pudding I suppose.”

“Mole sauce was originally made with blood,” Hannibal offers. “And there’s blutwurst, and blodplattar.”

“How do you know all this?” asks Will.

Hannibal smiles. “Why are people always surprised that potion makers know about cooking?”


	10. Such a Lonely Word

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Age is just an arbitrary number and doesn't reflect experience... right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You may have noticed my total chapter number keeps going up. That's because I keep thinking of more scenes I want to put in, not because I don't know where I'm going, I swear!

Hannibal’s dinner party is a smashing success – Will assumes they always are. He and Headmistress DuMaurier are the only Salem faculty members in attendance; the rest are either old-money purebloods or up-and-coming artists. And Alana.

As promised, she is seated next to Will. He’s known her for ten years but still has to think to make small talk.

“I guess you had Hannibal as a professor when you were at Salem?” he asks.

She nods. “I was sort of his teaching assistant. I was planning on becoming a healer at the time.”

“That must have been nearly twenty years ago, right? He must have just started here.”

“No, he was already senior faculty. You know potioneers; they’re always older than they look. They’ve got all the beauty secrets.”

Will laughs. “That’s true. How old to you think he is?”

She shrugs. “I never asked. I was seventeen, so anyone over thirty was just ‘old.’ She gives Will a sidelong glance. “I’m surprised you’re asking _me_. You two seem… very close.” The wink is implied.

“Guess I hadn’t thought about it,” says Will, focusing on his food.

“Seventy-nine,” says Hannibal, who apparently has heard the entire exchange despite being deep in conversation with Mrs. Komeda. “It’s not a secret. Wizards in my family frequently live past two hundred.”

Mrs. Komeda is impressed. “My dear, how is that possible? If your age isn’t a secret, your potions must be! You could make a fortune!”

“I already have a fortune,” Hannibal points out. Will knows he has inherited wealth as well as the proceeds from several dozen patents. “Besides, I have no ‘fountain of youth.’ I put my appearance down to clean living.” He raises his wine glass and gets a laugh from the table.

~

Will is nearly insatiable that night, demanding all of Hannibal’s considerable stamina. It’s possible, Hannibal reflects between bouts of rutting, that increasing Will’s Oxitose dosage may have been a misjudgment. Well, live and learn. It wasn’t really necessary anyway; the previous dosage had been more than sufficient in teaching Will that Hannibal is the source of all pleasure.

But experimentation is fundamental to Hannibal’s nature, and it may have actually paid off in a different way: Sprawled on his back now, Will seems so sated, happy, and exhausted that he will probably accept anything Hannibal tells him.

“I have a confession, Will.”

“Mmm?”

“I lied about my age.”

Will turns a hazy smile on him. “You can’t think I care about that, Hannibal.”

“You might,” he says softly. “It was rather a big lie.”

Will rolls onto his side and nestles against him. “If you need to tell me, go ahead.”

“I’m two hundred and fifty-three, Will.”

There’s a moment of silence while Will considers this, looking into Hannibal’s eyes to see if he’s joking. “So,” he says finally, “you weren’t exaggerating about the wizards in your family living over two hundred years.”  

“Have you ever known me to exaggerate?”

“No, actually. So… exactly how far past two hundred?”

“My grandfather was over six hundred when he died.”

“Nicholas Flamel lived to be  six hundred sixty-five,” says Will. “Not exactly a record.”

“Nicholas Flamel had the Philosopher’s Stone.”

“And you have, what, just good genes?”  

“Not exactly.”

Will is alert now. “Hannibal, what are you trying to tell me here?”

“The point is that I _can’t_ tell you – I’m spell-bound not to. The only way I could tell you is if I were to spell-bind you as well.”

“And you want to do that,” guesses Will.

“Eventually.” He wraps his arms around Will. “But for right now I just want to be honest with you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> According to J.K. Rowling, Potterverse wizards live about twice as long as other people, or about 150-200 years. When Dumbledore died he was 110 and in good health. His predecessor lived to be 300, which would be really old.


	11. Insomnia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stream of consciousness: Will ponders his relationship with Hannibal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, y'all have probably noticed that I suck at narrative and rely on dialogue for exposition, so chapters like this are a stretch for me. Feedback appreciated!

Long after Hannibal's asleep, Will is still pondering what he's been offered. He knows for certain he doesn't want to live 600 years, but the knowledge! Hannibal has to know what kind of temptation that is for someone like Will.

  
He wonders if Hannibal realizes that he's already given Will what he wants most: A sense of safety. After a career of reliving people's violent deaths, safety is the only thing that could seduce Will, and Hannibal's bed is the safest place he has ever known. He's pretty sure that's not just the afterglow of mind-shattering sex talking.

  
No that the man doesn't have his faults. He's a control freak, for one. He manages to rein it in, except in the bedroom - and there, Will loves it. He loves being able to just get lost in sensation, in a way he's never been able to with anyone else. He _trusts_ Hannibal more than he has anyone else.

  
He appreciates that Hannibal doesn't try to control him in any other aspect, which has to be an effort for a man whose life seems so strictly ordered. He clearly doesn't like Will's clothes, or his haircut, or probably anything about his apartment, but the only thing he's ever asked him to change is his aftershave. Hannibal is unusually sensitive to scent, which may be what makes him so good at his work.  
 _That and two centuries of practice._ Will smiles at that thought. That's likely what makes Hannibal so good at _everything._

  
So yes, he would trust Hannibal to spell-bind him. But there are far greater implications. The fact that spell-binding is a requirement means that the knowledge is extremely dangerous. As an Auror – former Auror – Will is equipped for that, but it's part of the life he's trying to leave behind. It's certainly nothing he wants to pass on to his students. He teaches Defense Against the Dark Arts with an emphasis on "defense." 

  
Or at least he tries to teach that. Jack Crawford seems determined to prevent it. Will has always been willing to stand up to Jack, but he's lost every battle. Jack is driven, and he's not above using guilt to keep Will as an asset. Hannibal is immune to that. He is unmoved by any talk of the lives Will might save. To Hannibal, Jack is not an authority figure but an annoyance. Possibly a competitor.

  
Yet Hannibal is willing to help Jack in certain capacities, lending his own immense knowledge to the investigation. In fact he's more generous with his own resources than he is with Will's time. He'll do what he can, but not at Will's expense. The books he provided have been invaluable, describing long-lost ritual magic requiring sacrifices banned centuries ago. In fact ritual magic as a field has been discredited in wizarding world, although superstitious Muggles still attempt it.

  
Will realizes he's not going to get any sleep if he lets himself think about the Ripper case, but now that his mind is on that track, he won't be able to derail it himself. He moves closer to Hannibal, who is sleeping flat on his back next to him, pulls the duvet down and trails his fingers down his chest. Hannibal opens his eyes, looking perfectly awake. Will has wondered before if he truly sleeps.

  
“Cant' sleep?”

“Mmm,” says Will, letting his hand drift lower down Hannibal's body.

“Need some help?”

“Mmm.”

Hannibal smoothly rolls Will onto his back and kisses him deeply, pressing him into the mattress. Will gives himself over to it, letting Hannibal's touch drive the Chesapeake Ripper from his mind.


	12. Exposition and Magic Stuff

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will's not dumb. Why doesn't he see what Hannibal is doing?

Initially, Hannibal was only about 50% sure he could affect Will using magic of any kind. Though even Aurors hadn’t been trained in ritual magic for hundreds of years, and though the diffuse components made rituals harder to sense even if one knew what to look for, the fact remained that Will was a necromancer.

That’s what was missing from all remaining texts on ritual magic, and the reason it didn’t work: While the individual actions, incantations or potions involved in a ritual could be performed by anyone, only someone able to command the dead could activate it. The texts referred to invoking or summoning assistance from spirits, or demons, or angels, or any number of words for beings not understood. Hannibal only knew they were the dead because the lore was passed down in his family, to only one person in each generation.

He assumes there are other lines of necromancers in the world. He will never seek them out.

The first ritual was a test. It involved a simple link between Hannibal’s home and Will’s, achieved by splitting a common quartz crystal. He kept one half on his person and hid the other in Will’s apartment. He asked his sister Mischa to activate the line. It was a benign spell, its only function was inform the caster when the subject left or arrived home.  

The next project was designed to weaken Will’s defenses against the dead. Not too much, of course. Enough to convince him he couldn’t face them alone. He buried caches of bones to form a pentacle around Will’s home, pointing south. To make only Will the focus, Hannibal fed him black pudding made with blood from the same source as the bones. He could have used heart or brain, but that could have resulted in Will losing control of his power entirely. He sent Will home to sleep in his own bed that night, pleading an early morning obligation, and had his uncle activate the pentagram once the crystal alerted him that Will was home.

Although this second ritual affected Will directly, he remained unaware of any outside influence. And why should he? Weakened defenses were the reason he’d retired in the first place.

Both spells had durations of only a few weeks at best. The third was much stronger.  It had to be much “thinner” to escape Will’s notice. A few objects rearranged in his home, specific combinations of herbs and organ meat, candles of tallow from the same source, scattered key phrases from Hannibal, all over the space of several days, culminating during the new moon. The spell was was called the “Wandering Eye,” and obscured the caster’s intent from the subject. Having been designed for use in espionage, with the caster’s life at stake, it was quite durable. 

To activate it, he summoned Will’s own father. It took an entire day to locate him and bring him to the right plane, but it ensured that if Will sensed anything it would be a benevolent presence. His grandfather had been right that overconfidence could be Hannibal's undoing - he would second-guess himself on all steps and leave nothing to chance. If Will discovered Hannibal was the Ripper before he was ready to join him… well, Hannibal didn’t like to dwell on what he would be forced to do then.


	13. Suspect

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack and Alana have an idea. Sort of a mini-chapter.

“And you think he would know who would have a strong enough motive…”

“Alana, he would have a strong enough motive. All his protocols have failed – he’s only keeping his position because his family funds the center. He could redeem his entire career with this.” 

Alana considers. “The problem is… he’s not smart enough.” 

“He doesn’t have to be smart enough to succeed,” says Jack. “As far as we know, whoever’s doing this has failed so far. If anyone succeeded in curing squibs, we’d know. We aren’t necessarily looking for someone with the skill to do it, only someone desperate enough to try.” 

Alana winces. "We don't say 'cured' anymore. There's nothing wrong with being a squib." 

"Yes, all right, but some people think there is. Especially the squibs at Kentigern, since they can't live as either Muggles or Wizards. But you understand what I'm saying."

“It’s a thought. We can’t approach him that way, of course.” 

“No, no. We’ll only ask him to consult with us on it. Flatter him.” 

“It’s worth a try,” says Alana. “Let me do it. You’re not as subtle as you think you are.” 

“So I’ve heard. I take it you know him?” 

“Better than I’d like. I did an internship with him when I was training to be a healer. He was… unpleasant.”

Jack looks at her. “But you don’t mind talking to him?” 

“I’m not eighteen anymore. I can handle him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Points to anyone who knows where I got the name Kentigern.


	14. Remember What the Dormouse Said

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *drops off chapter and hides*

* * *

“You were very rude to Jack,” Will scolds lightly.

Hannibal isn’t distracted from sliding Will’s shirt off. “I was merely firm.”

“He only came to t–“ He breaks off with a gasp as Hannibal’s teeth close on his nipple.

“Go on,” says Hannibal.

“He… to tell me… they… _unhhh_ … they’re going to talk to… Ch… oh, god…” Hannibal has turned his attention back to Will’s ear, making him shudder. “N-never mind, we can discuss this later...”

“Mmm. No, tell me now, Will.”

“ _Chilton_ , they’re going to talk to Chilton, he works with - “

“Yes, I know Frederick Chilton,” murmurs Hannibal. “Lift your hips.” Will obeys, letting Hannibal pull off his trousers. “Is Chilton helping them?”

Will can’t concentrate on anything else with Hannibal’s naked body pressed against his. He’s not even sure when or how he got Hannibal’s clothes off but it might have involved some popped buttons.

“He’s… he works with Squibs, he has…”

“On your side for me, please,” Hannibal coaxes.

Will turns on his side, pulling his legs up, and Hannibal spoons against his back. Will feels him hard and slick against his buttocks and lets out a long sigh of pleasure. He cranes his neck back for a kiss but Hannibal slips two fingers into his mouth instead. Will accepts them, suckling eagerly. After few moments Hannibal takes his fingers away, trailing them wetly down Will’s body. He takes a firm grip on Will's hip and whispers, “Keep talking.”

“Hannibal, I don’t – “

“Keep talking.” 

“Th-they think he has m- _motive!_ ” he cries out as Hannibal finally takes him.

“What motive, Will?”

“He… if he could cure…” the heat is building in him with every thrust, and the last thing he wants is to talk about Chilton. “Hannibal, please, _please_ …”

“When I’m ready, Will.” He takes Will hand in his and guides it down, wrapping it around Will’s own penis. “Keep talking.”

“It… could save his career,” he pants, as Hannibal strokes him slowly with his own hand.

“It could.” Hannibal’s voice has gone husky. “Do you think he’d kill for that?”

“ _Yes_ ,” will moans. He’s so close, so close, if Hannibal would just…

“All these murders, just to keep his job?”

“Yes, _yes, YES!_ ” He’s trembling violently now, and he feels Hannibal barely holding back, hears it in his voice.

“I think so too,” whispers Hannibal. In two more strokes the blinding fire blooms through Will’s entire body, like nothing he’s experienced with anyone else. He lets his body arch and buck, lets himself moan unselfconsciously until the fire dissolves into a tingling heat. Through the haze of his own pleasure he feels Hannibal straining against him, grunting against the nape of his neck, and wonders if it can possibly be as good for him.

When Hannibal is spent, they lie silently entangled for long minutes before Will shifts to face him.

“I’m ready,” he says quietly.

“Hmm?”

“For the binding. If you still want me to.”

Hannibal strokes his face. “Dear Will. You have no idea.”


	15. Forbidden Fruit

“There’s no going back from this, Will.”

“I understand.”

“There is no counter to this spell. It becomes part of your being.”

Will nods. “I understand.”

Hannibal isn’t satisfied. “Tell me what you understand.”

Will takes a deep breath. “I understand that unless we do this, I’ll never really know you.”

“Is that vital, to know me?”

Hannibal is slightly terrifying right now. Will has to force himself to meet his eyes, to remind himself why he’s offering eternal commitment to a man he’s only known six months. A man made out of secrets and half-truths, who is somehow the only person Will has ever truly trusted.

He understands that Hannibal is even more alone than he is, and always will be unless Will takes what he’s offering.

He understands that he’s Hannibal’s only chance.

He says, “It’s everything.”

Hannibal continues to study him dispassionately until Will says, “Am I passing?”

“That isn’t up to me.”

That startles him. “What?”

“I am offering centuries of life and millennia of knowledge. You would accept only for my sake. I can’t be the judge of whether you are worthy.”

“Why not?”

Hannibal smiles patiently. “Because I love you, Will. And love is blind. Now come here.”

“What are you doing?” Will asks, even as he steps into the circle of Hannibal’s arms.

“Taking you to meet my family.”


	16. Homecoming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will finally learns some things, and the reader learns that Crossbow piles on the dialogue because she sucks at description.

Will awakens to unfamiliar voices.

“We’re all agreed that his talent is extraordinary. The question is whether he’s mentally stable enough.”

“Hannibal has been his source of stability. What he learns here could completely undermine that.”

“I would submit that by most cultural standards, our practices would indicate mental illness.” That’s Hannibal. Yes, Hannibal was taking him… somewhere.

“Nevertheless, the heir has to maintain –“

“If he cracks, he could bring down everything!”

“Then you must trust me to keep him from cracking.”

“Your self-confidence will be your undoing, Hannibal.”

“Yes, so you’ve told me.”

“What about the rest of his blood line? History of Necromancy?”

Bloodline… that’s right, Hannibal said they were going to meet his family. He’s never mentioned family before, though. Head clearing, Will begins to take stock of his situation. He’s lying fully dressed on a comfortable bed in a dark, quiet room. The door is open, which is why the voices are so clear.

“No living relatives, unfortunately, and the only one he knew well was his father. The father had talent but was untrained; There’s no way to know how strong he might have.”

Will makes his way unsteadily to a heavily draped window and peeks out. It’s mid-day, and he’s… well, definitely not on the east coast. The view outside is alpine. It’s possible he’s in the actual Alps. Trailing a hand along the wall for balance, he approaches the doorway.

“What about children? You’ve never wanted them. You’ve been willing to end our bloodline and let all this knowledge be lost rather than have them.”

Hannibal is standing before a broad, shallow pool. Mist from the pool is rising to form human shapes, some clear, some wavering, some only pillars of cloud. The walls and ceiling are shrouded in gloom, but the place has the feel of a natural cave.

“I won’t let it be lost. It’s why I became a teacher. However, Will is quite likely to have children. He wants to, and I have no objection to him finding an appropriate witch…”

“Heh. As long as he remembers who he really belongs to, right Hannibal?”

“As you say.”

“Whom would you consider to be an appropriate witch?” Will asks from the doorway.

Hannibal turns and smiles at him as if he hadn’t just been planning Will’s life out behind his back. “Will, you’re awake. I do apologize, but I couldn’t warn you about the defenses. It’s part of the binding that I can’t speak of them outside this place.”

That raises even more questions, but Will sets them aside for the moment. Indicating the mist-forms, he says, “These must be your…”

“Predecessors,” says Hannibal.

“You’re a Necromancer.”

“Yes.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Hannibal doesn’t answer, only looks at him patiently.

“Oh. The binding.” He looks around. “Are we in your library?”

“Yes.”

“The defenses – it somehow knocks out any stranger who apparates in, even if they’re with you. Will it do that every time?”

“It will do a great deal more. If you try to apparate here again, it will paralyze you, permanently.”

Will stares at him. “There’s no such spell.”

“Oh, there most assuredly is.”

“The boy is a bit slow,” observes one of the mist-forms.

“He did just wake up,” says Hannibal. “He’s normally quite sharp.”

“Not that sharp,” Will disagrees. “I had not the slightest inkling you were a Necromancer. I still don’t understand what’s going on here.”

Hannibal smiles gently. “I took great pains to hide my power from you, Will. And I’ve had two centuries of practice at hiding it. As for what’s going on here… I’m asking them to accept you into the family.”

“As _what_ , a son-in-law?”

“As my heir.”

Will scrubs his hand over his face. “Could you have asked _me_ first?”

“No,” Hannibal says simply.

Will shakes his head. “This whole binding thing is really fucked up, you know that, don’t you?” he grumbles.

One of the haziest mist-forms laughs. It drifts to the fore and says, “I support Hannibal’s choice in this matter.”

In silence, two other forms join with the first, melding into a ghostly white column. The other forms drift about the pool, interacting with each other in some inaudible way. Gradually more and more join the column, until only one is left circling the pool. It eventually stops, shaping itself into an elderly woman. She looks from Hannibal to Will and back. Finally she says, “Be careful,” and drifts into the column. It then expands, brightening to fill the chamber with brilliance for only a second before it fades to nothing.

The gloom is gone. The chamber is not a cave, only a room. The walls are lined curtained frames that could be paintings, mirrors, windows, or all three. The pool looks like an enormous, elaborately tiled Pensieve.

“Is that what it looks like?” Will asks softly.

“Yes.”

“How far back do the memories go?”

“To 1365, consecutively. Earlier than that, they’re inconsistent.”

“And the dead somehow arise from it? From their own memories?”

“No, they use it as a gateway.”

“From where?”

“They don’t say.”

Will turns his attention to Hannibal. “What have you been doing to me?”

Hannibal smiles. He looks almost proud. “Ritual magic, mostly. To keep you from asking questions like this.”

“To keep me blind, and distracted,” Will muses.

“I’m afraid so. But that’s over now.” He pauses. “If you want it to be.”

“What if I don’t? What if I can’t accept all this?”

“That has never happened, but I believe I can remove these memories permanently. Of course, if I can’t, we cannot allow you to leave.”

Will frowns. “You would keep me here?”

“That is not what I mean. I think you know that.”

“There’s more,” says Will. “There’s a lot more you’re not telling me. All this isn’t just to protect some books. Hannibal… I have no idea what I’d be agreeing to here.”

“Neither did I. No one ever does.”

Will takes a deep breath. “Will I hate myself for this?”

“Possibly,” says Hannibal. Will studies him for a long time. He looks different now. He _feels_ different. Will can feel the power radiating from him almost tangibly. Power over death itself. That flash of light – had it freed Will from the spells that had been clouding his perception? Or had it altered the binding itself?

But that is academic.

The real question is, with this kind of power, with that control, what could Will learn from the dead? Who could hide from him then?

The Chesapeake Reaper?

“So…” he steps closer to Hannibal. “How do we begin?”

Hannibal smiles, holding his gaze. “Normally we would consume a small amount of each other’s blood.”

“Normally?”

“Normally we would be related, so blood would be our most powerful connection.”

Will moves close enough to put his hands on Hannibal’s waist. “But given the nature of our relationship…”

“Yes,” murmurs Hannibal. “Just what I was thinking.” He brushes his lips softly against Will’s, inviting rather than claiming him this time.

Will kisses him slowly, letting his hunger build. Hannibal follows his lead, but Will senses he’s holding back, ready to seize control. Suddenly he laughs. Hannibal draws back and looks at him quizzically. Will says, “You never let me go down on you. I always thought it was one of your power games, but it – “

“It could have triggered the spell,” Hannibal affirms. “And you weren’t ready.”

“You were protecting me?”

Hannibal considers. “I suppose you look at it that way.”

“Don’t.” Will kisses him again, harder. “Don’t protect me anymore.”

Hannibal laughs softly. “Be careful what you ask for.”

“That goes for you too.” Will grins at him. “Now come on.”


	17. Begin the Beguine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quick sex break.  
> Revised to add more adverbs than strictly necessary.  
> Enjoy!

* * *

 

The ritual has to be performed completely naked, as nothing can be hidden, and, Hannibal says, to symbolize rebirth.

They stand facing each other beside the pensieve pool. There are no ghostly forms now, only swirling mists. Whether any of the ancestors are watching, Will can’t say.

The words Hannibal has him repeat are ancient, Slavic but not Lithuanian. As he says them, Will understands the gist if not the exact meaning. He vows loyalty to the Lecter family, to the knowledge they protect, to Hannibal personally. He vows secrecy. He swears that he understands and accepts this of his own free will.

Finally Hannibal allows him to kneel, as if to accept a sacrament.

Reverently, he takes Hannibal in his mouth and sucks very gently. He wants to make it last, to savor what he’s waited all these months for. He begins moving slowly, with only light suction. But Hannibal has other ideas. He grips Will’s hair tightly, holding him still, and in a few thrusts comes hotly down his throat. Hannibal remains silent. Will is the one who moans, as something twists and shifts inside him.

When Hannibal releases him, Will lies back on the stone floor spreading his legs, because Hannibal never kneels. They’ve done this a hundred times, Hannibal often teasing and tormenting him an entire evening, bringing him to the edge over and over before coaxing him to a slow, shuddering climax. This time is different; he simply grasps Will by the hips and devours him. It’s quick and raw, and Will _screams,_ as much from shock as from pleasure.

It’s not over. He can feel that. The thing twisting in him is still in motion, like a vine looking for something to climb. He’s still panting as Hannibal mounts him and kissing him deeply, licking his own taste from Will’s mouth. When he can breathe, Will murmurs, “I just came… so hard… I don’t think I can…”

“Shhh.” He thrusts steadily until Will feels the heat building again, picks up his pace as Will begins to squirm beneath him, then raises himself on one arm to stroke Will while he fucks him. He finally lets himself go when Will starts bucking against him, until at last they collapse wetly together. But the vine is still twisting.

“Was that… was that part of it?” gasps Will.

“No. I may have gotten a bit carried away there. You didn’t seem to mind, though.”

Will looks him in the eyes. “I need more. We need more. It can’t be done yet.”

Hannibal smiles and brushes Will’s hair back. “Dear Will. Of course it’s not done. That only initiated it. The rest won’t be as much fun.” He pauses. “You may not be as prepared as you think you are.”

“What’s next?” Will asks softly.

“Next,” says Hannibal, “we eat.”

 

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up Next: Crossbow spends half a day researching recipes for heart tartare and heart carpaccio.


	18. Food for the Soul

“What is this?”

“Heart Tartare Puttanesca.”

“I don’t eat raw meat.”

“You must. Besides the fact that cooking destroys most of the nutrients, it is required for the binding.”

“Why would beef heart be required for a spell? That’s symbolism out of one of those ‘How to be a Witch’ books they sell to Muggle girls.”

“This isn’t beef, Will.”

“Whatever.”

“Will, you know I’m not serving this to you on a whim.”

“All right. All right. If it’s important I’ll eat it –“

“No, stop.”

“What now?”

“The important part is that you know what it is. _Before_ you taste it.”

“What are you talking about? You just told me what it is. Puttanesca: garbage, whore, whatever you have in the kitchen. “

“You must consider what we’re doing here, Will. This is very old, very dark magic. Now… what kind of heart is this? What is it you don’t want to admit to yourself?”

“That… this is a human heart.”

“Well done, Will.”

“Well done? No, technically not.”

“You may taste it now. There, make sure to get a caper on the fork. There now. What do you think?”

“It’s very good. For heart.”

“Trust me, you are putting it to much better use than the previous owner was.”

“Will you tell me about him?”

“Her. Have another bite.”

“One fact per bite? Is that the deal?”

“No deal. You must eat all of it or the binding will fail. That ache you feel, that need for completion, even if I successfully take your memory of this, that ache will always be there. I don’t know what it could lead to.”

“Who was she?”

“You told me earlier what ‘Puttanesca’ means.”

“A whore?”

“A whoremonger, actually. She was part of a human trafficking ring.”

“So you… elevated her. To this.”

“To nourishment. To magic. How are you feeling?”

“Good. Less restless. Less… wanting.”

“That’s good to hear. Will…”

“Yes?”

“I love you.”

“I’ve never doubted that.”

“I think you will. I think you will doubt it very much, shortly. So I wanted to say it now.”

“I love you too, Hannibal.”

“You will doubt that as well.”


	19. Rumination

As talented a necromancer as Will may be, he doesn’t have Hannibal’s experience. He can feel the obligations forming between them in an amorphous sort of way. Hannibal sees it clearly. The first part, specific to Will Graham and Hannibal Lecter, rooted in the frankly sexual origin of their relationship, had begun a pattern in each of them that could only go so far. He could see how it overwhelmed Will with need. He enjoyed overwhelming Will. It was in fact one of his great joys in life, along with cooking. He could have prepared Will better, but that would have taken a little of the enjoyment out of it. Life is what you make of it, after all.

Consuming the heart together had filled in more of the pattern. Will felt more stable but he didn’t _see_. The lines running between them now were not only needing but also supporting. If Will were to somehow betray or lie to Hannibal at this point, the backlash could leave him permanently unbalanced. Hannibal wasn’t worried about that; Will was fundamentally loyal. To a fault. It was his loyalty to Jack that left him so vulnerable to Hannibal in the first place. And that vulnerability is catnip to Hannibal. Will’s power added to his own will make Hannibal nearly unstoppable, but even without that, he would have been irresistible. He might have become only Hannibal’s prized possession instead of a partner, but Hannibal had to have him.

No, Will’s loyalty isn’t a question. Hannibal is less certain of his own ability to be completely honest. Once the spell was completed, Will would not be able to turn on Hannibal regardless of what he found out, but it couldn’t be rushed – the connections needed more time to build. It was imperative to keep Will from questioning him too closely before the final stage.

To that end, he rises from the table, takes Will’s hand, and leads him back to the bed where he first woke up. Will is fully ready, climbing onto the bed and pulling Hannibal down to him. “Is this the next part?” he asks. “Or is this just getting carried away again?”

“This is a distraction,” Hannibal tells him.

Will whispers, “It’s very effective.”


	20. The Devil You Know

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From here on out there will be time jumps back and forth. I didn’t plan it that way but that’s how it’s coming out.

* * *

 

“Where are we with Chilton?” asks Jack.

Alana speaks up. “We asked him to come in as an advisor. He claimed there’s no evidence of any spell to turn squibs into wizards. He sounded sincere.”

“Of course he was sincere,” puts in Zeller. “He’s as incompetent at lying as he is at everything else.”

That gets him a sharp look from Jack. “You did _not_ try Occlumens.”

“No, didn’t need to. He broadcasts. He was focused on trying to make Alana feel inferior.”

“That didn’t go well,” added Price, and he and Zeller snicker.

“So we’re back to square one.” Jack looks around at his investigators. “We don’t know if we’re looking witch, wizard, or Muggle. Is there anything we do know?”

Beverly pulls a list out of her desk. “The organ removal looks professional. More like Muggle work – a healer wouldn’t be trained that way. A hunter might, but again hunting is more common with Muggles.”

“A chef,” suggests Price.”

“What?”

“Removing organs, draining blood, slicing muscle – a chef could do that.”

“Or a butcher,” says Zeller.

Beverly shakes her head. “The work is too fine for a butcher. Unless he was also a chef.”

“Wait,” says Alana. “Are we seriously considering _cannibalism_ as a motive?”

“Why not?” asks Price. “He’s murdering people completely at random. Why could cannibalism be out of bounds? Especially if he’s attempting dark magic.”

After a long pause, Jack clears his throat. “So if it’s a wizard, it may be a chef who hunts and/or butchers his own meat. And if it’s a Muggle?”

“Maybe a doctor,” says Beverly. “They have dozens of kinds of doctors, though, and I don’t know much about their training. Or again, a chef. “

“Can we make any assumptions about his appearance?”

“I’m afraid not. The kills don’t take any particular strength or size. And, I mean, even Will Graham couldn’t get anything on him.”

 Price is the one who dares to breach a subject more taboo than cannibalism: “Have you talked to Will lately?”

“No, and none of you should either,” says Jack. “Leave him to me.”

  

* * *

 

Later in Jack’s office, Alana asks, “Have you really not spoken to Will?”

“Not as such. His better half came to see me. Asked me to stop contacting Will.”

Alana nods in understanding. “Hannibal can be very protective.”

“Possessive is more like it,” mutters Jack.

“That’s not fair, Jack. We both know what this does to Will. No one who cares about him at all would want him back in the field. The difference is you’re willing to do it anyway if you think it saves lives.”

“And you’re not?”

“If it were my decision, no. Not even if I thought it were saving lives, which it hasn’t so far.”

“Alana, have you ever had the feeling that Hannibal is… dangerous?”

She shrugs. “Anyone is dangerous if you threaten their loved ones. But I’ve known him most of my life and never had a reason to mistrust-”

She’s interrupted by a tap on the door, and Zeller sticks his head in uninvited. “We’ve got another one.”

 

* * *

 

 

Jack joins Beverly and Alana at the scene, a city street corner currently protected from Muggle eyes by a temporary shield. “How long has she been dead?”

“About two days,” says Beverly.

“Cause of death?”

“The heart was cut out while she was alive.”

“How many spells require a beating heart?” asks Alana.

“Beating or just fresh,” says Will. They all turn.

“Jack!” Alana hisses.

“Thanks for coming,” says Jack.

“No Hannibal?” asks Beverly.

“He’s busy. What do we know about her?”

“Nothing,” says Jack. “So I took the risk of calling you.”

“Risk?”

“Risk of Hannibal Lecter wreaking vengeance.”

Will chuckles. “He wouldn’t. At least not in any way that could be traced back to him. May I?”

The others back away from the body, right to the shield. Will holds his hands over the corpse, stares into the glowing fog. He looks strong. Stronger than Jack’s ever seen him. The work seems to barely strain him at all. When he releases the spirit and calls the others back, he’s perfectly calm.

“She was a witch hiding among Muggles,” he tells them. He explains how she was part of an operation that lured girls and young women from Eastern Europe and sold them into sexual slavery. The witch’s job was to keep them subdued.

And even though his hands and his voice are steady, Jack is sees a twist to Will’s mouth that makes him seem faintly nauseated.

“Is it the Ripper?”

“I think so. Blitz attack. Instant kill. No hesitation marks. No damage besides the missing organ.” His skin might look just a bit greyer.

Bevery says, “Zeller had the idea that he might be eating the… parts he takes.”

“It’s possible. Hannibal…” he swallows. “Hannibal had the same idea. A couple of weeks ago.”

“Why didn’t you tell us?”

Will only shakes his head. “I have to go.”


	21. Recollections

The third stage of the ritual is the sharing of memories. First between Hannibal and Will. The spell resembles a two-way Legilimens spell: Neither of them can control the memories that leap up. Neither can be fully aware of what the other sees in his mind.

 

 

_In the barn, the air is cold, the children’s clothes are pulled down to their waists as Blue-Eyes and Web-Hand feel the flesh of their upper arms. The others behind them nicker and mill like hyenas who have to wait. Here is the one who always proffers his bowl. Mischa is coughing and hot, turning her face from their breath. Blue-Eyes grips the chains around their necks. Blood and feathers from a birdskin he gnawed are stuck to Blue-Eyes’ face._

_Bowl-Man’s distorted voice: “Take_ her _, she’s going to dieee anyway. He’ll stay freeeeesh a little longer.”_

_Blue-Eyes to Mischa, a ghastly cozening, “Come and play, come and play!”_

_Bowl-Man brings his bowl. Web-Hand picks up the axe, Blue-Eyes seizing Mischa and Hannibal screaming flies at him, gets his teeth into Blue-Eyes’ cheek, Mischa suspended in the air by her arms, twisting to look back at him…_

 

 

“Will…” Hannibal’s mind has pulled away from his. Will stares. “I’m so sorry. What a terrible way to find out. Your father should have told you what you were.” Will’s eyes are burning, and he can’t really follow what Hannibal is saying. “What is it, Will?”

“Mischa,” he chokes out. “They took Mischa.”

“Yes,” Hannibal says gently. “It was a long time ago.”

“You wanted to kill them. Did you?”

“Eventually.”

“And Mischa, can’t you talk to her?”

“I can command her spirit. It’s not the same. No, Will, don’t, no tears. It was over two centuries ago.”

Will doesn’t even try to stop his tears; they’re not important. “It’s not that,” he says hoarsely. “It’s not the memory. It’s… you want her back. You want to raise her.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The italicized section is from the novel "Hannibal Rising."
> 
> There's an increasing chance that I'm going to completely redo this story, I'm so unhappy with the pacing. But I'll finish it here first. Feedback would be great!


	22. Domesticity

Hannibal welcomes Alana into his home. “Will told me you’d be coming by.”

“Is he here?”

It hasn’t occurred to Alana until this moment that she doesn’t actually know whether Will and Hannibal are living together. Hannibal has plenty of space, but he’s territorial about it, rarely allowing guests in unless he has formally invited them.

“He’s grading papers. He should be down in a minute. Please sit down. May I offer you a glass of wine? No, that’s right, you like beer…”

“Do you have coffee? I have a late night of work ahead of me.”

“Certainly. Still cream, no sugar?”

Just then Will thumps down the stairs, throws himself onto the couch, and rubs at his face. “Kids these days!” Hannibal hands him a glass of wine without asking and Will accepts it without looking. It makes Alana smile.

Hannibal excuses himself to make coffee, and Will tells Alana, “The books are all on the end table next to you. I didn’t find anything, but more eyes might help.”

“Hannibal is okay with me taking them?”

“Sure, he trusts you more than just about anyone. And he knows where you live.”

“And I bet they have tracking spells on them.”

“Undoubtedly,” Will laughs.

Alana smiles. “It’s good to see you laughing.”

“Well, you know, not much occasion for it at murder scenes. We should hang out more socially.”

“I’d like that.”

Hannibal returns with the coffee. “I agree. Will and I could both do with more social activity and fewer murder scenes. In fact, will you stay for dinner?”

“On the condition that we don’t discuss the Chesapeake Ripper.” She means it to be amusing, and Hannibal smiles, but Will grimaces.

*

Hannibal allows Will and Alana to help with the vegetables but won’t let them within arm’s reach of the Tandoori liver. “Don’t even stand too close,” warns Will, “Or he’ll kick you right out of the kitchen.”

“But I need to know the secret,” she protests playfully. “He’s the only person I know who can make liver palatable!”

“Not much of a secret,” says Hannibal. “You just need to start with a liver from a very young animal. Of course, most people also overcook it. People seem to commonly think it should be cooked through, but that only makes it tough. “

“Let me just see how you’re slicing – “

“That’s it, out!” Hannibal shoos them both back to the sitting room so he can cook in peace.

*

“You two are really good together,” Alana tells Will. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen either of you this happy.” Will just smiles and sips his wine. “It’s funny, though,” she continues, “After all these years, I had no idea you were gay until you started seeing him. I hate to think you were afraid to tell us.”

Will shrugs. “Maybe I just didn’t want anyone to set me up with Price.”

“We would never -!”

“Kidding, I’m kidding!” says Will. “The truth is, Hannibal’s the first man I’ve ever been interested in. I’d only ever dated women before, and not many. Actually, dating anyone was always a problem, since I could never talk about work. Maybe that’s the difference – I met Hannibal after I left the Aurors. Or, tried to,” he adds ruefully.

Alana grins. “Or maybe he just ensorcelled you.” Will laughs at that, and there’s a false note to it that Alana will later wish she had paid attention to. But it’s only a fleeting moment, and they’re soon back to chatting about Salem, comparing notes on how it’s changed since Alana’s school days.

Dinner is as amazing as Hannibal’s dinners always are. Alana is tempted to bring up the wizard-chef idea to run past him but remembers her own condition of not discussing the Ripper. Will barely touches his liver, claiming that the two glasses of wine affected his appetite.

Days later, Alana wonders how many other clues she missed.

 


	23. Negotiation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a few more chapters.  
> Any comments?  
> Pleeease?

Hannibal is looking at Will with mild puzzlement. Does he not see the problem with bringing Mischa back? Surprised that Will saw his intentions? Is it possible he isn’t even _aware_ of his own intentions?

“You can’t do it, Hannibal. You must know every necromancer in history has tried it. Even if it’s possible, it’s… it’s monstrous.”

“ _I_ haven’t tried it,” says Hannibal. “Moreover, _we_ haven’t tried. Our power combined is far greater than –“

Will is vehement. “No. No, no, no. I won’t do this. I won’t be part of it.” Hannibal is giving him a look that seems almost pitying, making Will feel like a petulant child. He changes tack. “If it worked, what would it be like for her? Nothing she knew still exists. It would like being dropped onto an alien planet. There’s no place for her here!”

“We would make one.”

_We. He’s talking about creating a family._

“And what, leave her in the library full of ghosts all day? Take her home and pass her off as a long-lost relative? “

Hannibal smiles indulgently. “We don’t have to decide all this right now, Will. The ritual isn't finished yet. How are you feeling?”

“I don’t know.”

“Can you elaborate?”

“I feel like… I feel like I have an anchor but don’t know where to drop it. Like you’re the only solid thing in my life but I can’t quite see you. Does that make sense? ”

“Yes,” says Hannibal.

“Will it change? Will I really see you when this is done?”

“Yes.”

“Will _I_ change?”

“Yes. We both will.”

“For the better, do you think?”

“I would not bet money on it.” He winks.

“This Mischa thing…”

“We will discuss it. Later. To complete the ritual we need to involve my ancestors. It won’t take long but it will be strenuous. You should rest first.”


	24. Vignette 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TIME JUMP

*** Five years from now ***

A ball of energy barrels into Hannibal the moment he walks in the door. “Daddy’s home! Daddy, Daddy, look!”

“Hello, Mischa, what have you got there?”

“A cauldron! We went to Shig… Shig…”

“Shingletons? Well, it’s a very nice one, isn’t it?” They’d talked about this. Mischa was precocious but five was just too small to handle a cauldron. There would be words later, after the girl went to bed. “What do you think you’d like to make with it?”

“Oatmeal!”

Of course.

“All right. I’ll help you make oatmeal in the morning.”

She pouts. “Tonight?”

“No, oatmeal is for breakfast.”

“But Oatmeal wants oatmeal.” Oatmeal was her bear. Actually a good number of her toys were named Oatmeal, but the bear was her current favorite.

“He can have it in the morning. What else do you want to make?”

“Um… Draught of Living Death?”

Hannibal laughs and scoops her up. “That’s my girl!”


	25. Entrée Vous

For the last stage, Will has to let the ancestors into his mind. It’s like nothing he’s ever done. He goes into the memories of the dead; he doesn’t let them into is. This is dark magic. A necromancer always walks a fine line, but Will has always set strict limits on himself. He looks only at the last memories of the deceased, who is usually only present as a shadow, an impression left on their surroundings, not a sentient being.

Hannibal’s ancestors are fully awake, not shadows left on this side but visitors from the other side. Something Will has trained himself to avoid at all costs. The dead are not predictable and their motives are not living motives. Anyone sensitive to them is at risk, anyone who attempts to raise them or control them is just as likely to be controlled by them. Fortunately, the dead mostly don’t care.

The Lecters care. In what way, there’s no knowing, but as Will walks into the Penseive pool he has more fear of Hannibal than his spectral family.

_He wants to raise Mischa from the dead,_ he tells them.

_He can’t. There isn’t enough of her left._

_He’s always been blind about her._

_He’s blind about Will too. He sees what he wants to see._

_He’ll be able to see you now._

_You can help him. You can ground him. Give him perspective._

_You can keep him safe. He won’t listen to us._

_How can I keep him safe?_ Will wonders.

_He’ll be caught. He’s more careless every year._

_You’re an Auror. You can help him hide._

_Teach him counter forensics, you mean,_ says Will.

_If that’s what you kids are calling it these days._

_And you can lead them away from him._

_Help him, help us, save this place…_

“How did it go?” asks Hannibal.

Will looks around. “How long have I been…”

“You left the pool just a few minutes ago. You were in about an hour.”

“I don’t remember. Why don’t I remember?”

“You do, don’t worry. You will find you have new old memories, if that makes sense. Whatever they put in your mind, you saved that information as distant memories instead of new information. For example, when was the castle built?”

“It was started in 1411 but it took five years to… whoa.”

“Where is the biography of the necromancer Joshua?”

“The original Aramaic scroll or the copies and translations?”

“The Greek translations.”

Will closes his eyes. “Fourth sublevel, second aisle.” He doesn’t have to ask if he’s right. “And… I know the enchantment for preserving the scrolls, too.”

“That’s excellent Will. And what day is it?”

He has to think harder about that. “Sunday.”

“Good. Now… what else did they tell you?”

Will takes a breath. “I told them you wanted to bring Mischa back. They said there isn’t enough left of her. They said you don’t believe them.”

Hannibal looks thoughtful. “It’s not that I don’t believe them, it’s…”

“… It’s that you want to try anyway. But I won’t help you, Hannibal. They won’t either.”

Hannibal looks away with an expression Will still can’t quite read, even now. “What else?”

“Things I didn’t understand. They said I had to help you, that you were going to get caught.”

“Yes, they do worry about that.”

“Did they mean about the heart?”

“Among others, yes. You don’t live to be my age without taking some unpopular measures.”

“Unpopular?”

“Unpopular in our culture.”

“This is one of those things you were spellbound not to tell me, isn’t it? You have to eat a human heart, what, just that once? Every year or something?”

Hannibal shakes his head slightly. “Much more often, and much more than the heart. You must consume an entire body over the course of a year.”

“An entire…”

“Do you understand what I’m telling you, Will?”

Will tries to swallow but his throat is too dry. “You’re… the Chesapeake Ripper.”

“Yes,” says Hannibal. “And from now on, so are you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before you jump on me, yeah, I know Entrée Vous isn't real French. I thought I was making it up, but turns out it's a fairly common restaurant name in the U.S.


	26. To Thine Own Self be True...

Will’s been spending so little time at his own apartment, it’s amazing that Jack manages to catch him there. Recognizing the knock, he opens the door with a “No.”

“Will…”

“No, Jack. Nothing I’ve done has helped so far, and I’ve got exams coming up. Just no.”

“All right, all right!” Jack raises his hands in surrender. “Look, do you just have time for a drink or something? We haven’t just talked since you started teaching.”

“Yeah, whose fault is that? You only contact me when you want something.”

“Listen, Will…” Jack tries to edge through the doorway but Will blocks him.

“I’m really busy Jack.”

Jack gives him a long, appraising look, and seems to come to a decision. Hopefully the decision to leave. Doesn’t look like it, though. It looks like he’s planning. “Whatever you’re thinking,” Will begins.

“Nothing, it’s nothing. I’m sorry, Will.” Jack reaches into his breast pocket and takes out an oblong packet. “Here, take this.”

Will doesn’t take it.

“You left it with me,” explains Jack.

“I didn’t leave anything with you.”

“I know.” He presses the packet into Will’s hand, tips his hat, and vanishes.

_Why do I even still have this place?_ Will wonders as he locks the door. _Hannibal has more than enough room, and Jack would never bother me there._ He doesn’t even have much to move, but it’s always seemed somehow important for him to keep his own place, even though he could easily have his own study at Hannibal’s place, Hell, he could have is own suite; it’s a freaking mansion. Still, he needs this place. _But not right now._ He lied to Jack about being busy; he only has a couple more papers to grade and plenty of time to do it tomorrow. Right now, he wants Hannibal.

 

****

 

“Will, you’re on fire tonight,” Hannibal murmurs against his neck.

“I said no to Jack.”

Hannibal chuckles. “Then you should do that more often.”

“No argument there.”

“What did he want?”

“I didn’t even let him tell me.” He wraps his legs more tightly around Hannibal. “You would have been proud.”

“Proud? Why? I didn’t do it. Impressed, maybe.” He nuzzles Will’s throat. “But then, you always impress me.”

Will pulls his face up and kisses him languorously. He feels Hannibal stiffening inside him, and moans softly into his mouth, making him shudder. Hannibal breaks the kiss to look down at Will seriously. “I’m never letting you go.”

Will holds his gaze. “Never.”

 

****

 

It’s not until late the next day that Will notices the packet from Jack. It’s in his back pocket – he must have shoved it in there without thinking before heading to Hannibal’s. It seems strange that he forgot about it, and that rings a distant bell in his head, but Hannibal’s making dinner and this doesn’t seem the time to worry about it. He’ll do it after they eat. And after he gets some more answers about the library. He questions Hannibal until the other man decides that’s enough for one day and drags him to bed.

Then it’s the weekend, which they spend in the library, Hannibal introducing Will to key features and Will insisting on spending an entire afternoon making love in the brightly-lit solarium, his jeans forgotten in a wad on the floor.

Sunday night, back in his apartment, the packet falls out while he’s sorting his laundry. _How did I forget that?_ He supposes it’s the constant diet of rich food, mind-blowing sex, and unlimited information. Then he wonders when he stopped questioning what kind of meat Hannibal is serving him. _That’s the price I have to pay, though, if I want this. If I want him. If I…_ Something.

The packet.

It’s wrapped in vellum. Inside is a crystal vial, which is clearly enchanted since it hasn’t broken, but the vellum is more interesting. The message on it is in Will’s own handwriting. Just one line. His eyes don’t seem to want to read it, but when he forces them to focus, his stomach drops.

He sits for several minutes, absorbing it. Then drawing his wand, he carefully seals his living space from all ears and eyes, magical or otherwise. In the kitchen, he removes his unused pensieve from a top shelf, but then thinks, first things first, and pours himself some whiskey. Fortified, he returns to the living room with the pensieve, and reads the message one last time.

_Jack –_ _I’m going ahead with it. When I won’t speak to you anymore, give this back to me._

 “Incendio.”


	27. And it Must Follow, as the Night the Day…

In Jack’s office, Will is pacing restlessly.

“You’ve got to let this go, Will. Hannibal Lecter has no criminal history and traceable motive. You don’t even know that he’s a necromancer at all.”

"I _do_ , though. I know he’s a necromancer the same way you know that I’m speaking English.”

 “Even if he is, that doesn’t mean…”

 “ _Only_ a necromancer could manipulate the last memories of the dead. Only one a lot more subtle than I am. And there aren’t that many of us to choose from.”

 “Look, assume you’re right. If we suspect Lecter just on the basis of him being a necromancer, we have to suspect you too.”

 Will dismisses that thought. “I don’t have the skills.”

 “I only have your word for that, just like I only have your word that Lecter’s a necromancer.”

 “I’m just asking you to - ”

 “Will, _stop it_. You left the aurors for a reason. You’ll make yourself crazy over this.”

 “I’ll prove it. I’ll hook him, you catch him. I just need you to…”

 “No.”

 Will takes a deep breath and says, “Frankly, Jack, you can’t stop me. I don’t work for you anymore. All I’m asking you to do is pull me out if I go too far.”

 “What’s that supposed to mean? Pull you out how?”

 “He wants me. I’m going to use that, get closer to him, spend more time at his house, find some hard evidence. But if I go in with an agenda, he’ll know it right off. I need to block off certain memories, back to when I first noticed he was a necromancer. Then at a set point, I’ll have you restore my memories.”

Jack is shaking his head. “There’s no _way_ , Will. First, if you’re wrong about him - ”

 “I’m not.”

 “ _If_ you’re wrong about him, this is seriously unethical. And if you’re right about him, he’d kill you. Besides, even if you removed all those memories about him, you’d just see he was a necromancer again the next time you see him!”

 “I don’t think so. He’s been gradually surrounding himself with more and more deflective spells, most of them against me specifically. Now that they’re in place, I could never see him for what he is, if I didn’t already know.”

“All right. All right.” Jack folds his hands on his desk. “You’re right that I can’t stop you, and obviously if you bring me hard evidence, we’ll have to investigate. But, as an auror, as _Head_ Auror, I simply can’t be involved in this. You’re talking about an elaborate scheme to entrap what may be a completely innocent man. I can’t stop you but I won’t help you.”

 Will gives him a steady look. “We’ll see.”

 +++++++++++

 Will slides the memories back into the vial. He’ll have to find somewhere more secure than his apartment for it, but for now he decides on the old tackle box in the back of his coat closet. He had the idea he’d get back to fishing when he left the department, but Hannibal would hate fishing. It’s behind all his coats, under two pairs of waders, locked more so it won’t fall open on accident than for security. The combination is the name of his first dog. When he finally digs it out and opens it, he finds his lures are gone. His knives and leaders are gone. The box contains nothing but a dozen stoppered, labeled memory vials.

 He has to see Hannibal.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK, sorry, I didn't mean for it to go this way. I started this story before season 2 even aired, so I didn't know what TV Will was planning. I always thought that revealing at the end of the story that the protagonist was really a spy all along was a cheap trick, but Will-in-my-head absolutely insisted on it. He said, "If TV Will can do it, so can I!"


	28. Thou canst not then be false to any man.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will goes to Hannibal. Surely Hannibal will know what to do. Hannibal is really good at helping.

Ugh, Deleted this chapter. Hated it. Hated it with the heat of a thousand suns. Will replace it as soon as possible.


End file.
